


Happily

by imaginebughead, PandyMilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Literally ;-), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginebughead/pseuds/imaginebughead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandyMilkovich/pseuds/PandyMilkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian's douchebag coworker makes a move, misunderstandings take place that make both Mickey and Ian very unhappy. </p><p>Basically they're two idiots in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [this_aint_macys_bitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_aint_macys_bitch/gifts).



> for Serena. who deserves it. pssshhhh......whatever.
> 
>  

“Damnit!”  Mickey had woken up suddenly and his ears perked at the exclamation. His eyes were still closed but he could hear a loud banging noise and Ian swearing.

“God...fuck!” He opened one eye and Mickey saw Ian as he hopped up and down with his hands on his right foot, his toe had begun to redden from Ian rubbing at it. He had clearly stubbed it on his way from the bed to the dresser.

“You alright?” Mickey’s voice was rough from sleep and he opened his eyes fully and peered over at the clock. He realized it was almost noon. Ian was going to be late. Shit.

“No, I’m not.” Ian huffed and he put his foot down and started collecting his uniform for work. Ian was in his boxers at the moment and Mickey stared at the expanse of Ian’s back and his arm muscles as he bent over to pick up his shirt from the floor. He started buttoning his white collared shirt as he looped a tie around his neck and began to knot it. Ian then pulled on dark blue jeans next and they hugged his ass just right. Ian bent over once more to look underneath the dresser for his socks and Mickey whistled at the sight.

Ian flipped him off over his shoulder before he grabbed his socks and sat on the bed near Mickey’s legs.

“You know it’s completely your fault you’re going to be late asshat, there’s no need to have an attitude.” Mickey said, he accentuated every syllable of the word so it sounded more like “att-i-tude” as he put his hands behind his head and smiled knowing full well it was his own.

“My fault? Who was the one saying 'oh yeah Ian, fuck me, please'. Jesus you were just begging to have my dick buried in your-” Mickey pulled Ian down awkwardly on top of his body and Ian moved slightly so that he was above Mickey straddling his hips.  

Mickey reached up to cup the back of Ian’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and wet and Mickey pushed his tongue into Ian’s mouth to deepen it.

Ian breathlessly pulled away and heaved a sigh his lips quirking up slightly in the corners. He then began to move a little lower still on top of Mickey he worked his lips over Mickey’s cheek, then his jaw, and finally down to Mickey’s neck. He sucked on the skin there and Mickey groaned and rolled his hips up, he felt Ian’s barely concealed boner through his tight jeans.

“Fuck...Ian.” Mickey was in heaven, the feel of Ian’s tongue on his neck and the sensation of his lips as they sucked a bruise into it. Mickey reached his hand down to palm Ian through his jeans when Ian pulled away suddenly.

“Aha!” Mickey looked at Ian like he was crazy, was this guy serious right now? Ian looked, for lack of a better word, triumphant, he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh what the fuck? That was a set up?”

“Yup,” Ian grinned mischievously, “now we know that me being late is all your fault because you always start things and they get out of hand. I,” he pointed to himself as Mickey rolled his eyes almost continuously throughout the speech, “am an innocent and you are taking advantage.”

“Fine, my bad.” Mickey conceited knowing there was no winning an argument against a Gallagher, he had learned that a long time ago.

“I’ll forgive you if you pick me up from work. Please?” Ian batted his red eyelashes and Mickey pushed him so that he rolled onto the floor.

“Fuck off!” Mickey huffed and Ian shook his head, pulled on his shoes, and gave Mickey one more kiss and he all but ran out the door.

Mickey laid there for a few more minutes and debated whether or not to go back to sleep but his stomach rumbled and decided for him. He went into the bathroom, relieved himself, and then walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and a box of cereal. Once the milk was poured Mickey put it back in the fridge and settled in front of the television to watch some quality reality programming.

He had the spoon almost to his mouth when he heard a buzzing from his right and looked over to see that Ian had texted him. Groaning he put his bowl on the coffee table and swiped his phone to unlock it.

_Thanks for offering to give me a ride, ur the best. ;)_

Mickey smirked at that and sent Ian back a quick _douchebag_ before he resumed his very important day-off routine of cereal and TV.

 

* * *

 

Ian sighed heavily before opening the door to the restaurant. He was no longer working at the FairyTale, but managed to stay in Boystown. The scenery was much different, but the tipping was just as good. People on this side of town still liked young hot gay guys. It didn’t matter if Ian were scantily clad on a stage, or serving overpriced steak, he still brought home decent tips. So he stayed in this wannabe ritzy restaurant with the fruity cocktails and complicated menu as a means to pay the bills.

He had thought his biggest problem at work, especially in the food business, would be the patrons-wrong! As time went on, the biggest problem proved to be his coworker, Preston.

Preston was his age, dark hair, not nearly as appealing as Mickey’s jet black hair, but a nice shade of brown. His body was built, he had the shoulders and arms of a linebacker (while Preston often bragged of his athletic past, Ian always found it displeasing and cocky). His dark eyes complimented his olive skin tone perfectly, but they were nothing compared to the blue Ian was lucky enough to see everyday. Overall, Ian would say he’s attractive…if the guy never opened his mouth.

Everyday Ian had to ward off a slew of bad sexual innuendos, mostly involving meat (working in a restaurant meant the puns presented themselves pretty well). On top of his unashamed flirting and stupid winks, he was also handsy.

Preston would always grab at Ian’s waist as he passed behind him, insisting that it was for “safety reasons” and that he would hate it if Ian were to fall and wreck that “perfect face”. It took everything Ian had not to knock the guy out.

The job was good money, he couldn’t afford to lose it. So he made do, if taking $400 home in tips regularly meant swatting off a fuckboy every now and then, he’d do it.

Ian whipped the door open, and approached Abby, the hostess, to be assigned his section.

“You’re in VIP tonight,” she informed cheerfully, knowing Ian would love to hear it, and he did.

Night’s he worked VIP he took home upward of a thousand bucks, depending on the night. It being a Friday, his chances were pretty good.

“With Preston,” she regretted to inform.

“Fuck,” Ian muttered. Abby knew his disdain for Preston so there was no need to hide it from her.

“I know,” she sympathized, “I’m sorry, but it's a bachelor party for this snazzy gay guy, and they want you and him up there!” She explained.

“Snazzy?” He asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Ya know, ritzy, fancy,” she wheeled her hand, and Ian looked at her dumbly.

“He’s got money, Ian. He’s rich, gay and lookin’ for a good time!” She announced.

Ian laughed lightly at her, “we sell meals not men, calm down,” he smiled.

“But if we did, I’m sure he’d pick you,” she winked, and Ian knew she was trying to flatter him so he’d forget about Preston.

“Ahuh,” he sung out, and swiped the apron out of Abby’s waiting hand.

“Serena is bar tending though, so you’ll have one ally,” she added quickly, so he didn’t stay too mad, and the redhead was relieved.

He laced it up, grabbed his order book, a pen, and headed into the VIP room.

The room was lined with windows that faced the streets. The owner, Andrew, said it was so people would be intrigued by the place, and want an in. It usually worked, people passing along the streets would peer in with interest, and come in to see what all the hub-bub was about. It was a good business move, and it didn’t escape Ian that every weekend only the most attractive servers were on duty to work the VIP room. Andrew was a savvy business man if nothing else.

It was a very sleek looking room, with private booths tucked in every corner. There was a circular bar in the middle of the room, where Serena was perched, and Ian was thankful she was there. He had to work the floor with Preston, but having Serena there to run to was nice (she too, hated Preston). There was a small stage along the back wall for the DJ to play, in front of that there was a small space for people to dance, then scattered bar tables throughout the room for socializing.

The lighting was dim to “set the mood” and after eleven they would turn on the technicolor lights to “kick it up a notch” as Andrew would put it. Ian always hated it because it reminded him-and Mickey- of his club days, and that was something they both were trying to forget.

Preston was right behind Ian, ushering in on his coattails. Ian felt him before he heard him, Preston snuck up behind him and pinched his ass playfully.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a fun night,” he winked while Ian puffed.

“Yeah, a real thrill,” he said dryly.

“Oh com'on Red, lighten up, I’m only joking with you,” Preston nudged his shoulder as he floated past him.

Ian hated the way he walked, bobbing up and down, then he leaned against the bar to an unamused Serena.

Ian quickly made eye contact with her, and shook his head. Serena swatted Pretson's elbows with her rag, and gave him the eye.

“No one ordered anything yet, you have no reason to be here, go do your job,” she ordered him.

“Well aren’t we a delight,” Preston commented.

“Yeah, a real dream,” she retorted sarcastically as she poured a water.

Ian mosied over, knowing she was pouring it for him, they had always had a good routine together. She knew he had to take his mood stabilizer at this time, and always made sure there were fries and a drink waiting for him.

Ian reached into his pocket where a single pill sat, threw it into his mouth and grabbed the drink from her hand.

“Thanks,” he told her, and she pulled the fries from under the bar and Ian smiled at her.

“I know, I’m too good to you,” she said.

Ian ate happily, swatting at Preston who kept trying to take his fries while Serena went over the night’s agenda.

“The party should be here in about 20 minutes, I’ll dim the house lights soon. Andrew wants you,” she pointed to Ian, “working the west end, and Preston the east,” she told them of how the room was set up.

“I will man my battle station here, and try my hardest to save you from any one who gets too frisky,” she told them.

“Yeah okay,” Ian said sarcastically with a smile.

“Shut up,” she quieted him, “finish that shit, we gotta get going,” she told him.

“Why don’t I ever get fries?” Preston whined.

“Because I don't like you,” she retorted and waved him off, while Ian smirked.

“Thanks again,” Ian said and got up.

The boys had to set up each table with a champagne ice bucket, the top shelf liquor list, a tray of fancy appetizers (usually ones that double as aphrodisiacs), and a pager, so the costumers could beep Ian if they needed something.

The beeper system was another Andrew idea. The thought being better service, and it worked, but Preston would also have a connection to Ian if he were to need his co-worker for anything, and vice versa. Ian never beeped Preston, ever, but every time they worked together Preston constantly beeped Ian. It was always for some bullshit reason, he needs help reaching something, or he needs to talk to him in the storage room, or he can’t get the freezer door open, or he needs help carrying trays. And each and every time Ian would answer the call, Preston would attempt to corner him. One time causing Ian to shove him up against the shelving in the walk-in. Preston just told him that he liked a challenge.

When the crowd shuffled in, Ian realized Abby was right, this guy was fancy. His suit alone must have cost about a thousand dollars. He walked in and ordered bottle service for the most expensive champagne and vodka they had, also ordering a few cocktails as well.

“Three manhattans, a dirty Marty, and four appletinis,” Ian announced when he got to the bar.

Serena worked away, not needing to look at the bottles, just grabbing them from memory and measuring like a pro.

“Did asshole beep ya yet?” she asked Ian.

“Nope, but I feel it’s coming,” he told her.

“Me too, he was already bitching to me about not wanting the back corner group,” she informed him.

“Great,” the sarcasm was strong, and just like that his beeper chirped and the green flashing light indicated it was Preston.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“And so it begins,” Serena announced after getting all the drinks on the tray.

“I’ll drop these and see what he wants,” Ian told her.

“Okay, you know where to find me if you need me,” she called after him.

Ian dropped the drinks and made sure his group didn’t need anything else, the patrons praised his professionalism and good looks and assured they were all set for now. Ian didn’t mind when customers commented on his appearance, that was all part of the game, and most of them had morals and boundaries, so it was never a problem.

With regret already working through him, Ian made his way over Preston, who had his arms crossed dramatically and looked to the point of tears.

“What?” Ian asked, unamused with the guy's dramatics.

“They’re being so rude, I just can’t take it. I’m doing everything I can over there,” he whined.

“Okay, and what would you like me to do about it?” Ian asked.

“Well,” Preston’s voice turned soft as he staked a finger over Ian’s muscular arm, “I was hoping you could talk to them for me, ya know, tell them not to be so rude to their handsome server. You’re so charming, I’m sure they’d listen,” he added.

Ian rolled his eyes, and bit down the urge to knock Preston out, his table just told him he was professional, so punching his co-worker in the face would tarnish his image a bit. Ian looked to Preston then to his table and sighed.

“Fine,” he agreed, “but no more bullshit beeping, you take care of your side of the room for the rest of the night,” he told him sternly.

“Okay,” Preston smiled.

Ian took care of Preston’s table, spit out some bullshit that he’s new and this is his first event. The table thanked him, and actually tipped Ian, so it wasn’t all bad. And with that, he made his way back over to his section.

As the night went on both Ian and Serena noticed that Preston was getting more and more uninhibited. There was an extra bouncy pep in his step, and Ian chocked it up to him trying to entertain the people, while Serena was suspicious. Ian had to admit, he wasn’t being paged that often, so maybe it was a little curious. Ian carried on with his night though, and decided to be thankful for this short break from all the pestering.

Ian was able to concentrate on his costumers, they all seemed quite pleased with his service tonight. The groom even offering Ian a job as a server for his wedding, Ian laughed it off, but when he offered him $500 he considered it. The party died down around 2am, and Ian looked out the window to see if Mickey was there yet, he wasn’t but had a text saying that he was on his way.

The last of the party goers filtered out, and Ian made his way to the bar to count tips, and tip out Serena.

“Where’s Preston?” he asked as he scanned the room.

“Don’t know, and don’t really care to be honest,” she admitted, emptying her cash drawer.

Ian looked around the room again, it was unlike Preston to not show up at tip out, and even though he didn’t like the guy, he knew the kind of creeps that roamed BoysTown and hoped he didn’t get picked up by one.

“Be right back,” he said and got up to walk around.

He looked in every booth, and under tables, but Preston wasn't there.

“Fuck is he?” Ian mumbled to himself.

“ _Iaaaannnn_ ,” he heard a distant whine.

“The fuck?” Serena called out.

Preston was tucked away behind the DJ booth, slumped over and drunk. Ian felt his anger come up. Drinking on the job was the first and pretty much only rule Andrew had. He was cool about everything else, but this was inexcusable. And also could get Serena fired, and Ian would have none of that.

“What the fuck Preston?” Ian barked out, and he helped him to his feet while Preston clung onto him.

He walked him back to the bar and sat him in a chair.

“Get him water,” Ian instructed to Serena, who did, but not happily.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked, “how did you even get alcohol, you’re putting my ass on the line!” she boomed, unmoved by Preston's gesture to have her lower her voice.

“They shared,” Preston answered her with his ever present whine.

“I don't give a shit, you’re not supposed to drink and it’s gonna look like I served you!”

Ian knew he had to step in and take over here. Serena was downright pissed, and Preston needed to sober up at least a little bit before Andrew got wind of this.

“I got it, just cash out, and I’ll handle him. You’re not gonna get fired,” he promised.

Serena swiped the cash off the bar and stuffed it into the little black leather pouch and stormed off, but not before getting in the last word.

“I swear to God Preston, if I get fired I’m gonna break every knuckle on your hand, all 15 of em.” she called out.

“Calm down Serena,” Ian told her, “I got it…and besides a hand only has 14 knuckles,” he smirked.

“Fuck off, smart ass,” and with that she was off to give Andrew the cash from the night and hopefully distract him from going into the VIP room for a little while. Andrew liked her enough, she was confident she could pull it off.

Preston’s head was laid on the bar, and Ian smacked at it to get him to wake up.

“Come on, drink this,” he said handing him the water again.

Preston raised his shameful head and took the water from Ian. Ian was about to go behind the bar to start some coffee, when Preston grabbed his wrist and tried to stand up.

“Sit down,” Ian told him harshly.

Instead, Preston pushed Ian up against the bar, and caged him with his hands. Ian tried to push back, but before he could Preston was leaned up against him trying to kiss at his neck.

“What the fuck?” Ian shouted and placed him back on the stool.

“Oh come on Ian, no one is around. Your precious Mickey would never know,” he slurred, while he tried to grab for Ian’s belt.

Ian was caught between a rock and a hard place. Normally he would just walk away and be done with it, but he had to stay, he had to sober Preston up so Serena wouldn’t lose her job. He bit back the urge to scream again, not wanting to alert Andrew of a ruckus, and spoke calmly.

“You gotta stop with this shit. I’m only sitting here because of Serena, I’m gonna sober your ass up, then all the other shit stops. No touching me or winking or calling me when you don't need me. I promise you next time I will kick the shit out of you,” Ian growled.

“Oh so you’re a tough guy,” Preston said seductively tracking a finger down Ian’s abs over his shirt.

Ian rolled his eyes, he should have known better than to have that big speech while Preston was drunk. It went through one ear and out the other, he ignored the advances and continued to concentrate on sobering Preston up. He wondered where the fuck Mickey was, hoping he’d be there soon and hopefully help out a bit.

What Ian didn’t know was that Mickey had already pulled up outside the restaurant and quickly pulled out once he saw the display through the window.

 

* * *

 

Mickey screeched to a halt at a red light and punched the steering wheel with his fists, blaring the horn of his pick up truck. He flipped off the person behind him who honked at him as soon as the light turned green. He took his foot slowly off the break and pressed on the gas pedal. He tried to remain calm and focus on the road and all that shit but he was so fucking mad, no he was furious. He couldn’t believe Ian would pull this crap. And with Preston?

Every night that Ian worked with Preston he would come home sweaty and tired and bitch about that prick for at least an hour.

They would order take out and sit on the couch as Ian would gesticulate wildly. He had the most insane elaborate stories of Preston and how fucking smarmy he was. The stories would always have Mickey doubled over his beer in laughter and Ian’s face would light up.

Ian would tell Mickey about how Preston would make little comments here and there about his less-than-wealthy clientele and they would laugh saying maybe they should pay Frank to show up, that’ll teach him.

Mickey was most certainly not laughing at the moment though, he was fuming. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew it was Ian. He took it out of his pocket and, eyes flitting back and forth between his phone and road, he silenced it and threw it onto the seat next to him.

Pulling down the street where their apartment was he parked and took the keys out of the ignition before getting out and angrily slamming the door. He ran around the car to the other side and opened the door and fished around in the glove compartment. He found what he was looking for and took it out and pulled a lighter from his back pocket. After lighting the cigarette he stood there with his back leaned up against the passenger side of his truck letting the smoke waft through his nose and tried to calm himself though he wasn’t doing a very good job.

He had been trying to quit smoking since Ian rarely smoked these days but damn if this wasn’t a good enough time to start up again. He still couldn’t believe what he had seen. Preston had leaned right into Ian’s space and Ian? He didn’t do a single thing about it. Hell, Mickey would never admit it but Ian could kick even his ass so he knew Ian could take care of himself. _So why didn't he?_

When his cigarette was done he tossed it to the side before heading into the apartment building. The building itself from the outside looked like it was a crumbling pile of shit but because this was on the edge of the North Side they could charge them a pretty hefty price and the inside was actually spruced up quite nice.

There was a living room when you walked in with hooks to the left for winter coats and a rack for boots and Ian’s running sneakers. The other room was the eat-in kitchen with a small table and then just down the hallway was the bathroom and a bedroom just big enough for a queen sized bed and a dresser.

Mickey toed off his boots and haphazardly tossed them towards the side as he made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap off using the edge of the counter. He gulped it down in three succinct swallows he placed the bottle in the sink, looked around and saw the take out containers from Ian’s favorite restaurant down the street, some dumb ass Thai place, and okay, it was kind of good but Mickey was pissed that while he had done something nice for his fucking boyfriend Ian had been with Preston. Mickey sighed and resigned to deal with the clean up in the morning and made his way down the small hallway to the bedroom.

He changed out of his jeans and threw on his sweatpants over his boxers and hopped into bed. He knew what was bothering him. The whole situation was so fucked up and it stank of the past, when Ian was dating those rich fucks from the North Side and Mickey was still the dirtiest white boy in America. Hell he might still be dirty as fuck but he thought him and Ian had a good thing goin’ now. 

But how could he have been sure, he and Ian weren’t exactly the talkative types. Maybe Ian had decided that Mickey wasn’t enough this time. No, fuck that, he’d been down that road before and self-pity was not a good look on him. If this was really it he was taking the bitter angry road as opposed to the high one.

After about twenty more minutes of sulking Mickey heard the door slam shut.

“Mick?” He could hear Ian call his name but continued to sit on the bed with his back up against their makeshift headboard with his arms crossed.

“Mick?” Ian called out again in confusion. He finally made his way into their bedroom, and fuck if Ian didn’t look amazing. The white of his button up shirt had made his green eyes shine in the light that was pouring into the room from the moon. His eyes searched Mickey, most likely for any sign that he was hurt or any reason why he wouldn't have been there. When he saw none, he huffed out a breath and sat on the bed by Mickey’s feet as he had done that morning.

“Fuck Mick, I had the worst night,” he ran a hand over his face and then took off his shoes. Ian looked tired from where Mickey was sitting, _serves him right_ , he thought.

“Why didn't you come and get me?” Mickey heard confusion and underlying anger and exhaustion in his voice but he couldn't have cared less at that point. Mickey shrugged at Ian’s back and Ian had continued on oblivious. “Anyways whatever. I could always use the extra miles on my shoes after working 12 fucking hours." Ian was the king of subtly apparently. "It's _fine_. Oh and do you know what that fucker Preston did?” Ian turned to face Mickey his eyes had bags under them and he was slumped over and Mickey had felt a slight guilt creep up over him. But then he thought about Preston getting closer and closer to Ian and Ian not doing a damn thing about it.

Mickey scoffed, “yeah,” he mumbled, “I know all about Preston.”

Ian looked at Mickey through appraising eyes and tilted his head, “are you mad at me or something?”

Mickey just sat there giving Ian the silent treatment and raised his eyebrows.

“You know what Mick,” Ian said pulling his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt, “I don’t really have time for a guessing game tonight. I’m too fucking tired so I’m gonna shower and go to bed and if you decide you want to talk I’ll be in there.”

Ian stormed out after undressing down to his boxers and Mickey just sat there feeling pretty stupid. He had known that he was being kind of childish. There must have been some sort of reason for what he saw. They were past all the mind games and bullshit and Mickey knew logically that Ian would never cheat on him and he really had to work on his impulsiveness. But Mickey knew himself well enough to know that he was just as stubborn as Ian was and wouldn’t be swayed easily.

Mickey decided it would be best if they talked about it in the morning and he got up and turned off the light, he got into bed on his side and laid down. He was going to wait for Ian, wanted to feel his strong arms around him.

Turns out he didn’t wait for Ian like he had planned on as the anger had drained from him body the moment his head hit the pillow and his eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep to the sounds of the shower running.

 

* * *

 

Blinking his eyes open and peering at the clock Mickey saw that it was five in the morning, a god awful time to be awake and he growled low in his throat thinking about what had woken him up in the first place. He reached out behind him to run his hand over Ian’s side only to find the space empty.

He rolled over and found that the Ian shaped dent in the bed wasn’t there and in fact it looked as though he hadn’t slept there at all. His side of the bed was still made with army-like precision. Mickey sat up in bed and realized just then what had woken him up. Or rather, not what had woken him but the distinct lack of Ian’s soft breath tickling the back of his neck that roused him from his slumber.

He got up and walked into the living room only to find Ian on the couch covered by a thin blanket that they used more as a throw. Mickey could tell that he was cold just by the way his face was scrunched up. He sighed and walked back into the hallway and opened the closet door slowly. He grabbed a more heavy autumn appropriate blanket and softly closed the door again. Mickey walked back into the living room and he carefully covered Ian with the blanket and watched as the wrinkles in his face smoothed out and he had happily sighed in his sleep.

Mickey smiled down at him and quickly ran his fingers through Ian’s hair before leaning down to kiss his forehead, he let his lips linger there knowing that if Ian were awake right now he’d scowl at him.

Mickey had messed up and thought the worst of Ian and let his anger get the best of him, but he knew that he would set things right again. After pulling the blanket up to Ian’s chin and patting his shoulder once more he walked into their room and laid back down in his Ian-less bed and fell asleep knowing full well how grumpy he would be if he didn’t get at least several more hours.

Waking up the next time was a bit easier and as he looked over to the clock it was almost ten in the morning and yet still his bed was Ian-less. Rather than hearing the banging of pots and pans or the stomping of Ian’s clownish feet the apartment was silent. Mickey was so sure that he’d be able to talk to Ian, to explain his behavior but as Mickey got up and walked into the living room he found that Ian was no where to be found.

On the table in the kitchen Mickey found a note that read, “Went to my family’s early, we’ll talk after work I guess. - Ian”

 

* * *

 

Ian woke up that morning feeling a bit warmer than he had when he went to sleep. He decided to stay on the couch that night because Mickey was bugging the crap out of him. He was so goddamn cranky and Ian was so exhausted and he hadn't wanted to deal with that shit. He had gone back into their bedroom just to pick out some sweatpants and found Mickey asleep. He couldn't help the smile that passed his face. He swore Mickey looked so peaceful in his sleep, Ian had desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, kiss him, hold him. 

He was just so tired though and so he grabbed a clean pair of sweatpants from the floor and just before he closed the door he whispered " _goodnight Mick"._

It was late Autumn and the chill swept through the apartment and as Ian laid down on the couch he realized that he had made an error in judgement. He saw that his only line of defense between him and the cold would have to be the throw blanket on the back of the couch. It was thin but as Ian shivered he realized that he was more tired than he was cold and so he covered himself as best he could, arranged his pillows, and fell asleep.

The next morning had Ian waking up in a bit of a confused state. It took him a moment before he had remembered his almost fight with Mickey, was it even a fight? He looked down and saw that someone, an angel perhaps, had covered him with a heavier blanket and he smiled softly as he knew it had to have been Mickey.

After changing very quietly and leaving Mickey a note he headed on the subway to the Gallagher house just for a quick visit with his family. 

Visit's with the family were always hectic. People would come in and grab food and leave. There'd be toys strewn across the floor. The kitchen was mostly always a hazard zone these days what with Fiona working full time in an office. He always went back though because it was so familiar to him. He held Liam on his lap as Fiona told him the struggles of working full time and playing mom. She asked about Mickey and he evaded any questioning that she had brought forth. She had quirked her eyebrow but Ian was a steel cage. Impenetrable. She sighed and took Liam from his lap and said goodbye as she made her way to Vee's house.

He checked the clock and decided he had about an hour to spare before he had to get on the subway and so he recruited Debbie and Carl to help him pick up a bit around the house. Debbie went on and on about some boy in her class who she was crushing on. Ian warned her what would happen to him if he ever hurt her and she rolled her eyes. Carl told him about his science class that he was actually interested in because they got to blow things up. Ian listened interested as Carl's animated stories got them through the clean up process pretty quickly. Now Fiona wouldn't have to worry about the living room or kitchen at least for one day.

When it was time to go he hugged Debbie and did this complicated hand fist bump thing with Carl before hopping on the train back to the North Side. While on the train his thoughts of course had begun to drift to Mickey and he rolled his eyes at how stubborn they both were. At his stop Ian had gotten off and made his way on foot to BoysTown.

Ian walked into the restaurant, ready to start his double. He was thankful for the distractions from his thoughts, and doubly thankful that he wouldn't have to work along side Preston today. He was working with Serena again, and that always managed to put him in a better mood. He thought to talk to her about Mickey, but didn't really know what to say. In the past he and Mickey had always gotten a good laugh about Preston and his douchebag ways, but after last night, it seemed that that had changed.

Ian walked in and got his section from Abby. The restaurant had three different sections, the classy dining room to the right, with a small bar, and fancy tables with white linen tablecloths. They were set to perfection with three forks on one side of the plate, a butter and steak knife on the other side, and even a soup spoon at the top of the plate. Of course each table was also set with a wine glass and a water glass as well. To the left of the classy room and through double doors was the more casual pub area, with the bigger bar, and more of a relaxed atmosphere, and to the back a VIP room, which was closed off, and where they all had worked the night prior. Abby told him he'd be in the dining room for the lunch crowd, which wasn't as plentiful as the bar lunch crowd, but he'd take what he could get. As he turned into the dining room he spotted Serena at the dining room bar, ready to serve the patrons, and made his way over to check if she was okay after last night's events. 

"Hey, everything go okay with Andrew?" 

"Yeah," she said wiping down the already clean bar, "he didn't suspect a thing, mostly just talked his ear off about Mark, that seemed to do the trick," she said of Andrew's husband, and favorite topic. 

"How 'bout you, everything settle down with you and Preston?" she asked. 

Ian took a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face. 

"That bad?" she prodded. 

"Nothing I can't handle, but I wish he would get the fuckin' hint already," he told her. 

"Fuckboys never get the hint," and Ian knew she had a point, "Talk to Mickey about it?" 

Serena had always liked Mickey, she found a kinship with him. She enjoyed his humor, his blunt honesty, and harsh tongue, he almost felt like someone from New York, which was a comfort to her. Ian knew this about Serena, and oddly thought the two were a lot alike. Serena and Mickey only crossed paths occasionally, but every time they had, the banter between the two was always entertaining.

"Yeah," he sighed, "I don't know what his deal is, he wouldn't talk to me last night about it, and fell asleep before I got the opportunity to, so I couched it last night."

Serena pulled back her cascading chocolate colored hair into a complex, but messy bun on top of her head. Ian wondered how she managed to get all that hair up with such skill and precision without a mirror, when he could hardly get his two inch long hair in place.

"Okay, listen. You need to shut this fucker down-Preston, not Mickey. I know once upon a time, it was probably funny to you and Mick, but I'm sure now it's just getting annoying and frustrating for him," she told him.

Ian considered her words, and thought she was probably right. He knew if it had been Mickey in his position, he would get annoyed after a while. So Ian's plan for the day was to finally put Preston in his place once and for all. He and Serena had the day shift together, and Preston would join them at night, so they had all day to execute a plan to take down the enemy, without losing their jobs.

Ian saw Abby seat the first table and got to work.

"Think of something we can do, my words don't seem to work out so well with him," he said, as he walked backward to his table.

"Roger that," she saluted him off.

Ian sat and served his table, they were regulars, and knew he'd get a hefty tip from them. He smiled and joked with them, but behind the smile and puns his mind was working on a plan. He couldn't hit Preston, and he couldn't freak out and cause a scene, he couldn't tell Andrew about the alcohol and put Serena in a bad spot, so he went to his partner in crime to see what she had come up with.

After checking on his tables, and dropping the food to some diners, he made his way over to Serena.

"Okay, think of anything?" he asked.

"Sure did," she replied with a devilish grin.

"Okay, whatdya got?"

"Convince him the place is haunted so he quits," and Ian looked to her unamused, "no? okay. Fuck with the food he serves so people complain about him?"

"That makes Andrew look bad," Ian told her. Andrew was a real stand up guy, and was a dream as far as bosses go, so he didn't want to put him in a bad position.

"Alright, alright. I can call in my pack to come and be real asshole costumers," she suggested.

"Your pack?" Ian asked.

"My friends, I call them my pack. I'm the leader, obviously," she further explained.

Ian smirked at her, "obviously," he reaffirmed.

"Or! And just hear me out!," she began and Ian leaned on the bar, "we tell Mickey, and he kicks his ass," she revealed her plan, and Ian gave her the side eye, "I've heard a lot of stories, I wanna see it happen," she admitted with a playful gleam in her eyes.

Ian laughed lightly at her, "yeah, I'm gonna pass on that plan," he decided.

"Pff, whatever you're no fun," she huffed.

"Keep thinking, I have to check my tables," he patted the bar and was off.

"Yeah, I'll be here doing all the work, no problem." she called out sarcastically, and Ian turned back and flashed her his beautiful smile.

"Yeah, yeah, just go!"

Lunch turned to dinner quickly, and Ian and Serena had no semblance of a plan as Preston walked in to start his shift. He was working the bar room while Ian stayed in the dining room side of the restaurant, and he was grateful for it. Ian was assigned to work alongside Chloe, who took over for Serena at the small bar, and Rawan who would be the other server for the night. Serena was moved to the bigger bar, and Ian felt bad that she was stuck with Preston. He looked over at her just as she mimicked a choking action behind Preston's back and Ian smirked with a light giggle.

It was a busy night, and Ian had no time to think about Preston, and was happy to not run into him at all during the night. He had to pick up some bottles of wine from Serena every now and then at the bar, but Preston seemed too preoccupied with his own duties to pester Ian. Serena had informed Ian that no apology was issued about the prior night's happenings and to "stand by for more intel".

As the night dwindled down and the crowd had faded out completely, Andrew came in to assign side work duties for everyone. He gathered his employees and dished out their duties.

"Okay, Rawan and Chloe, you girls just have to take the linens to the wash room, and throw the trash out and you're good to go," he told them and the girls were off.

"Ian and Preston, you'll have dining room duty. Marry the ketchups, fill the shakers, and a vacuum the floors," and Ian silently cursed at the fact that he had side duties with Preston.

"Rena, clean the bar, cap the bottles, you know the drill," he told her.

"Course," she replied and got to it, before shooting Ian an apologetic look.

The two guys made their way into the dining room and gathered up all the condiments from the tables and brought them to a booth to start marrying and filling.

"Thanks for last night," Preston spoke up, smiling at Ian, causing the red head to cringe internally.

"I didn't do it for you," he responded flatly, "and maybe there's a sorry somewhere in there too," Ian bit out.

Preston took a small sigh and looked up at Ian. Ian couldn't stomach the way Preston would tilt his head on his hands, like a child trying to be cute, it was extremely displeasing on a man his age and it took all Ian had not to gag.

"But I'm not," Preston said simply.

Knowing this conversation wasn't going to end well, Ian decided to remove himself from the situation all together. He finished filling the salt shakers and got up to to put them on the shelf in the side storage room. He placed them in their proper spot, took a minute to have a calming breath, and regrouped.

When he came out of the room, Preston had finished the ketchups and was standing, leaned up against one of the tables with his arms crossed. Ian resigned to the fact that the only way this whole shit show was going to end is if he told Preston once and for all that it had to, with a little bite in his bark this time.

Ian approached him, face hard and determined, and got right down to it.

"Okay, what the fuck is your problem?" Ian started.

"I haven't a clue what you mean," Preston responded innocently, and tried to grab for Ian's hips, who swatted his hand immediately.

Unbeknownst to Ian or Preston, Mickey was just through the double doors to the bar talking with Serena.

"I'm serious, this shit," Ian gestured to Preston's creepy hands, "stops now!" he growled.

It wasn't that Ian couldn't bat away the advances as they came, but seeing as it was hurting Mickey, he was determined to end it, Mickey's feelings at the forefront of his mind.

"Oh com'on Ian," Preston huffed, "Is this because of Mickey?"

The Mickey he spoke of was now walking out the double doors of the bar, and heading to the dining room, Serena close behind. Both of them were still oblivious to Ian.

"Just give em a second," Serena whispered, as she grabbed Mickey's arm.

"Fuck that," he retorted in a whisper then threw his hands up, because why the fuck was he whispering?

Mickey went to charge into the dining room, but Serena gripped him tighter. He looked back at her with pursed lips, a huff, and eyebrows that threated to breach his hairline.

"I know, I know," she sympathized, "I wanna see you kick ass too, but Andrew is still here, so we have to wait a minute," she explained, pulling him behind the hostess stand.

Serena crouched down, and Mickey followed suit, eyes rolling like a tidal wave.

"Are we seriously hiding out right now? How the fuck old are we?" he sharply whispered.

"Fuck off, it's kinda fun, go with it," she bit back.

"Oh my fuck," he huffed.

Things continued in the dining room, and Ian was getting increasingly annoyed with Preston, especially at the mention of his boyfriend.

"Well, obviously this has to do with Mickey, but even if I wasn't with Mickey, pathetic fuckboy isn't really my type," he shot back.

"Oh spare me Ian," Preston began, "Everyone here knows what you were doing before working here, you _were_ a pathetic fuckboy, com'on," he leaned up against Ian, who was red with anger, "don't act like you don't want to," Preston whispered pressed up against Ian's ear.

Mickey turned to Serena, and puffed his chest as the rage crept up his neck and there was a heat in his ears. Serena held his wrist in place, as she looked back to see that Andrew _had_ gone out for his cigarette.

"Fuck off me," Ian pushed Preston into a table.

Preston fumbled and his face turned to shock, the anger was visible on his face, and he stood up straight to try to regain some composure.

"Whatever, enjoy your tic tac sized boyfriend," he spat out.

"Oh damn," Serena said, and let Mickey's wrist go like she was releasing an animal back into the wild.

Mickey jolted up, and stomped over. Ian's eyes wide and mouth agape when he saw Mickey approach. Mickey scratched at his nose a second, and Preston looked like he was about to piss himself.

"I'm sorry what'd you just call me?" he asked with animated hands out in front of him.

"I-uh. I didn't know," Preston shook out, clearly aware of Mickey's history.

Ian sat back, he knew what was coming, and Serena rushed to his side.

Mickey grabbed Preston by the back of the neck and slammed his head down on a table.

"Tic tac, huh?" he barked.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Serena called out, and Ian shot his eyes at her.

"Andrew's smoking, we cool," she answered his unspoken question.

Mickey picked Preston's head up, and punched him right across the face, then kneed him in the ribs and watched him fall to the ground in grunts of pain.

"Holy shit," Serena was pumped the fuck up.

Mickey leaned down real close to Preston's face, and lowered his tone to a deep growl, "if I ever hear you utter one thing about me again, I won't go so easy on you, hear me fuck face?" Mickey's eyes were dark and narrow as Preston nodded slowly.

Serena looked to Ian and mimicked an exaggerated gulp paired to frightened eyes.

Mickey stood up, and kicked Preston again for good measure, "and one more thing, touch him again, I'll cut your fuckin hands off and have you watch as a throw 'em in a blender, got it asshole?"

"I'm scurred," Serena muttered sarcastically.

"Got it," Preston groaned.

Mickey turned to Ian, who had his arms crossed and shook his head, while he tried to bite the smile, "ready?" Mickey asked.

Ian looked up and met his gaze, this wasn't the plan he had, or the one he thought he wanted, but fuck if Ian wasn't turned on.

"Yep," he answered, and Ian wondered if Mickey knew just how ready he was.

"That was the greatest thing I've ever seen," Serena broke the moment, "Im'a call you if I ever have this type 'a situation," she said to Mickey.

"Well you know where I live if you ever have a problem," he assured her.

"Perfect," she replied, "I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little turned on," she spoke without thinking, "Ian you are _gettttin_ some tonight," she commented.

Ian shook his head at her, and laughed, "Serena, go home," he told her.

"Going," she said, grabbing her coat and heading out the door. 

Ian turned to Mickey after Serena was out of view, but with Preston still looking on and pulled Mickey into him by his waist. 

Their lips met forcefully, and Mickeys hand tracked up Ian's back and feathered through the red hear on Ian's neck, before he cupped it behind Ian's ear.

Ian leaned in deeper to the kiss, caging the back of Mickey's head with his freckled hand, and another placed on the small of his back, lightly pressing Mickey's hips into him, and feeling the friction it inflicted.

The kiss was hungry, Mickey sucked lightly on Ian's bottom lip, and Ian moaned into his boyfriend's mouth. Ian loved the effect jealousy had on Mickey, although he would never admit it outwardly, it never failed to turn him on when he saw Mickey puff his chest, and get red in the face.

Mickey broke off Ian's lips, seeing as they were still at Ian's place of work, and tried to calm the already forming boner in his jeans. It was just in the nick of time too, as Andrew resurfaced in the dining room and took in the sight.

"Uh, what's going on here?" he asked confused.

Ian sprang into action, "It was just a personal thing, not work related, everything is fine, it's not going to be a _thing_ or whatever," he assured as he rambled.

Andrew looked to Preston, then to Mickey, then darted eyes to Ian, "he come on to you again?" Andrew asked.

Ian paused momentarily in shock, he hadn't known that Andrew was privy the situation, but quickly found his words, "Yeah," he admitted.

"Thought so," Andrew commented, "Preston," he looked to the pathetic heap on the floor, "you're fired," he said sharply.

"What? Are you kidding me? I was attacked, by his neanderthal boyfriend!!! And you're firing me?" Preston yelled out.

Mickey smiled victoriously next to Ian and laced their fingers together, then tightened his hold on Ian.

"Yeah, I am. Consider yourself lucky, if that were me and you did that to my Mark, I'd of shoved the heel of my favorite stiletto in your eye," he told him, speaking of his past work as a drag queen.

Preston huffed and puffed as he gathered up his tips and jacket, "this is ridiculous, I'm calling a lawyer!" he announced dramatically.

"Yeah okay tough guy, good luck," Mickey said.

Andrew ripped the cash tips from Preston's hand and counted it out.  He pulled a few bills from the stash, "For Rena," he informed with a smile, then handed it back to him, "although you probably owe her the stack after the shit you pulled last night, putting her job on the line."

Preston got red in the face, and didn't know how Andrew could possibly know about the night before. What he failed to realize is that when Andrew said he sees _everything_ that goes on in his restaurant, he meant it.

"Tell me more about that lawyer you have? I'm in the market for a lawyer seeing as I had an employee-former employee-" he corrected,"is stealing my liquor," he commented with a sly smile.

Preston threw his hands in the air and stormed out the door.

Andrew turned to the young couple and smiled small at them, "Come on Ian, you could've taken him yourself, I had money on it!" he joked.

Ian got pink in the cheeks, "I know I could've, I was just trying to have a more civil approach," he explained.

"Yeah, sound like my Mark," he laughed, and looked to Mickey, "good work, I'm gonna watch the footage back later," he said and Mickey smiled and shook Andrew's out stretched hand.

"Uh, heel?" Mickey asked shyly.

"Some of us gays wear dresses and shit on the weekends," he responded with a smirk, and Ian nudged his boyfriend.

"Well alright," Mickey breathed out.

"Have a good night guys," Andrew bid them a farewell, and headed back to his office to watch aforementioned footage.

That left Ian smiling down at Mickey, "stop with the fuckin face," Mickey told him.

"What face? I don't have a face!" he smiled innocently.

"I was cool till the tic tac thing, that shit pisses me the fuck off," he defended his actions.

"Ahuh," Ian all but sang out, as the two walked hand in hand out the door.

They walked down the quiet street and around the corner. It was almost two in the morning and the quiet night air hung between them, it had rained during the night and so Mickey and Ian took turns darting puddles while still walking side by side.

“Your chariot awaits.” Mickey dramatically waved his hand towards the door of his pick up.

“My chariot?” Ian laughed and he opened the door and climbed in. After clicking his seat belt into place he looked over at Mickey who had just climbed in on the other side.

“Yeah, you know, your chariot. Because you’re the damsel in distress.” Mickey smirked over at Ian and started the car.

Ian lightly punched Mickey’s arm who feigned hurt, “I didn’t need you protecting me you know. I can take care of myself.”

Mickey started to drive and he thumbed at his lip before returning both hands to the steering wheel. “You know I wasn’t doing it for you, I was defending my own honor. I told ya before. It was that tic tac bullshit, fuckin smarmy ass pansy, thinks he can have just about whatever-”

Mickey’s rant was cut off as Ian reached over the console and was slowly unbuckling Mickey’s jeans. He had a small smile on his face, though Mickey had bought the truck a couple of months ago, they had never had the chance to properly christen it. Ian had decided that it was finally time to change that.

“Jesus Christ Ian, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mickey looked around frantically as if there would be a sex police there to stop them.

Ian rolled his eyes, “trust me Mick, I’m just letting you know how much I appreciate you defending _my_ honor.” He got the jeans unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped before he leaned over more fully with his body and took Mickey’s dick out of his boxers. It was half hard already and Ian swiped his tongue over the tip.

“Ffffuck,” Mickey swerved a bit before he settled back in the correct lane.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ian smiled devilishly up at Mickey and he leaned down once again to swipe a lick from the base of Mickey’s thick cock all the way up to the head.

“Uh…..uh…...no. No! Don’t stop.” Mickey groaned and Ian took that as his signal to go. He bobbed his head up and down on Mickey. He hollowed out his cheeks as Mickey pushed his head with one hand down further onto his cock so that Ian was deep throating him. Mickey hissed at the feeling and Ian couldn’t help but hum at the noise.

Mickey thrusted up and deep into Ian’s throat. Ian pulled off momentarily and fisted Mickey's cock in his hand and looked up at Mickey who white knuckled the steering wheel, hands were in the standard ten and two position but he looked like it was taking all of his concentration, everything he had to get them home safe.

“How long til’ we’re home?” Ian asked curiously light for someone who was just deep throating his boyfriend. Mickey growled as Ian continued his ministrations with his hand.

“Like five fucking minutes Ian, Jesus!”

“Good, I’m gonna make you cum in three.”

Ian worked his hand up and down a few times on Mickey’s hard cock before he leaned back down to get to work. He licked up the precum that had gathered at the tip and sucked on the head before he swallowed all the way to the base and he moved his tongue back and forth on the underside of Mickey’s cock before he came up and started over.

As Ian continued his work he heard Mickey’s breath hitch, and he had felt Mickey tap his head meaning that he was close. Ian sucked him and bobbed his head a few more times before pulling off with a pop and replaced his mouth with his hands, he worked them up and down faster and faster. Ian looked out the window and saw that they were stopped at a red light.

“Gonna cum for me Mick? Huh?”

Mickey groaned and his breathing increased and Ian kissed the side of his jaw.

“Wanna watch you and then when we get home I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you hard.”

With that sentiment Mickey came, he spilled all over Ian’s hand. Mickey moaned and panted and leaned forward so that his forehead rested against the steering wheel.

“Holy shit.” Mickey laughed and as the light turned green Ian grabbed some tissues to help them both clean up. “What can I say Mick, seeing you all protective and shit gets me kinda hot.” Ian blushed and looked away.

“God damn Gallagher, maybe I should go out and punch people more often.” Ian looked over at Mickey and saw the teasing glint in his eyes and grabbed his face from the side and gave him a big loud kiss on the cheek.

“Hey man,” Mickey playfully pushed him, “I don’t know where that mouth has been!”

 

* * *

 

Inside the apartment Mickey shucked off his clothes so fast he could have sworn he had gotten whiplash. They didn’t even make it to bedroom before Mickey had Ian pinned to the wall of the living room. He raised Ian’s arms above his head and held them there and captured his lips with his own. Ian groaned as Mickey licked into his mouth, Ian kissing him back just as desperately. Their tongues were tangled together as each battled for control of the kiss. Mickey pushed Ian further into the wall and ground his hips against Ian’s boxer clad cock.

“Fuck,” Mickey growled, “I was so fuckin’ mad when I saw you last night, his hands all over you.” He moved down to Ian’s neck and it possessively.

Mickey heard Ian moan as he moved further down his body, his hands moved from Ian’s down his arms as he lightly caressed them, his hands were gentle where his mouth was unrelenting. He bit and nipped at Ian’s neck and chest. He wanted to mark him, make sure everyone knew that Ian was his boyfriend.

“Mick,” Ian panted as Mickey continued his onslaught, “Mick hey,” Mickey looked up at Ian as he lowered his arms and touched Mickey’s cheek.

“You know...you know I wasn’t into him like at all. You have to know that.” Ian looked at Mickey seriously like Mickey couldn’t have possibly been thinking what he had. Mickey so wanted to deny the fact that he had thought of Ian and Preston for a tiny minuscule second but he couldn’t. Instead he shrugged and looked away.

Whoosh, all of the air had been knocked out of Mickey as Ian switched their positions so that Mickey’s back was pressed up against the wall.

“You.” kiss “Dumb.” kiss “Stupid.” kiss “Adorable.” kiss “Ass.” Ian peppered Mickey’s lips with kisses in between the words and Mickey had never been given a lecture while being kissed before but he figured he could do with that kind of scolding more often.

“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re not into the guy.” Mickey held his arms above his head in mock surrender.

“No,” Ian said roughly, his face was inches from Mickey’s. “You don’t get it. You, me, this,” he gestured in between the two of them, “this is the real thing Mick. I love you. Always.”

Mickey blinked up at him a few times. The words had seeped into his skin, and warmed his heart, he craned his neck up to give Ian a soft slow kiss.

They rushed into the bedroom Ian’s hand had been on Mickey’s lower back the whole time, their lips fused together, their bodies craving the constant contact of each other.

Mickey laid Ian down on the bed and crawled over him. He started to kiss his chest. His tongue worked it’s way around Ian’s nipple and caused it to harden. Mickey moved on to the other one when Ian groaned in pleasure. Mickey felt Ian’s fingers in his hair, they guided him lower and lower.

Soon Mickey reached for Ian’s boxers and pulled them down, Ian lifted his butt to assist. He huffed out a laugh and Mickey looked up at him. Mickey leaned over and kissed Ian’s hip bone before he turned his attention and his mouth over to Ian’s hard cock. Ian groaned as Mickey’s mouth had fit itself perfectly over Ian’s thickness.

Mickey knew all the ways to make Ian crazy, he used them that night to his advantage. He bobbed his head up and down for a few minutes, Ian’s long fingers resting firm within his hair. He pulled up and licked his way down Ian’s cock and down to his hole where he licked an experimentally. He heard Ian gasp and so he did it again only this time he did not stop. He kept up that rhythm until he stuck his finger inside just next to his tongue, slowly pushing it in and pulling it out. While fucking his finger in and out of Ian he continued his work on Ian’s dick and continued sucking and he could tell that Ian was about to lose it. He looked up through his long eyelashes and thought that Ian looked so fucking hot. The sight of Ian coming undone had Mickey reaching down with his other hand to pump himself in his fist.

“Shit Mickey, wait.” Ian pulled Mickey’s hair so that he was looking up at him and Ian moved his hands down to Mickey’s arms and pulled him up. Mickey saw as Ian’s eyes darkened and the lust sparkled in them.

Ian flipped Mickey over so that he was on his stomach. Mickey looked over his shoulder and watched as Ian leaned down and put both hands on his ass and spread his cheeks. Mickey turned his head back around to face the wall and groaned as he felt Ian’s tongue at his entrance. Ian licked his way inside Mickey’s hole. He gripped the ass cheeks so hard that Mickey had been sure there would be bruises for days. Not that he minded.

Ian made quick work of prepping Mickey’s ass before Mickey heard Ian as he popped the cap of the bottle of lube and slicked himself before he lined himself up, hands on Mickey’s hips.

Mickey groaned at the sensation as Ian pushed until he had bottomed out. Ian’s forehead rested for a moment on Mickey’s back and Mickey felt the drops of sweat as they dripped from Ian’s forehead. Ian steadied himself on his knees and he gripped Mickey’s hips and once he was sure that Mickey was ready Ian began to thrust in and out.

After Ian had set the fast and rough pace that Mickey loved, Mickey got up on his forearms and gripped the sheets below him. He looked around for anything to ground him as Ian moved faster above him.

“Mick, shit.” Ian said as he thrust in and out, keeping a steady pace. He reached around to fist Mickey’s hard cock, Mickey gasped at the feeling of Ian’s hand around him and of Ian inside of him and he couldn’t control it anymore and he came for the second time that night, spilling on his stomach and Ian’s hand. Ian stroked him through his orgasm before returning his hands to Mickey’s hips to thrust one, two, three more times into Mickey roughly before he bent over so that his forehead rested once again letting out a guttural noise into the crook of Mickey's neck and Mickey felt Ian's release.

They both collapsed onto the bed next to each other. Mickey was wiped he had decided right then and there that make up sex was just about the best thing in the whole world. Even though they technically hadn't even been fighting in the first place. Mickey turned his head to glance at the clock quickly when he felt Ian at his side, hugging him close and throwing his leg over Mickey's. 

"Will I ever get any personal space?" Mickey asked jokingly.

"You got enough last night, you can deal with my body heat for one freakin' night." Ian leaned his face closer to Mickey's so that their lips met in a soft kiss. "Let's not fight like that again okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Mickey agreed, "and, I love you too," he added quietly with a little pink to his cheeks.

Ian cuddled in impossibly closer to Mickey and draped his freckled arm across his chest. Mickey turned to face Ian, kissed him softly, and held him close. After a few minutes, they both drifted to sleep, _happily_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing you all the cookies n' cream your heart desires. It is finally raining oreos.


End file.
